


The Night of a Thousand Tears

by moonryak



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Heavy Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonryak/pseuds/moonryak
Summary: When they were young, the kind boy stole his heart, for whom he shed a thousand tears through his life since he lost him.-Or basically Kakashi lamenting Obito's death and thinking of him during his life.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Kudos: 32





	The Night of a Thousand Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome everyone!
> 
> I have no excuses. Kakashi and Obito are my OTP, and I have the tendency to make my favorite characters suffer, so here I am.  
> Forgive any grammar mistake, English is not my first language.  
> This work is inspired by "Do not stand at my grave and weep", by Mary Elizabeth Frye.
> 
> Please enjoy your reading!

He made a ritual to himself after that unfaithful day, when he lost everything he had and wanted, before even realizing he wanted to spend the rest of his days with the other boy. Every single day, he would go to the memorial stone where the names of the fallen in war were engraved. It didn’t matter the time nor the weather; he would go on a sunny day or in the middle of a storm, before leaving the village for an ANBU mission and after returning. With sorrow flooding his senses, he would read the name of his everything; an adversary, a friend, an inspiration, a lover.

The pain never ceased, the ardor of his heart and soul alive as fire, as well as the burning ache of his eye, the eye of the one who sacrificed himself for his life.

_ Do not stand at my grave and weep _

_ I am not there. I do not sleep. _

  
  
  
  


As spring came, the sweet scent of flower pollen would fill his sensitive nose. Before during his life, the smell of blooming flowers would bring him an irrational comfort. Unfortunately since the Third Great War, spring would not give him any positive emotion. The wind blew and hugged all nearby trees making them dance. The treetops sounded in unison, moving with grace as the wind kept blowing them. He looked up and saw how the cherry flowers left their branches and flew where the wind led them. Such a beautiful sight, he thought, beauteous and ephemeral. Just like the black haired boy who conquered his heart without even knowing. The same boy of whom he thought every single day, without fail.

Some would say that beauty is what preserves through time, others would say otherwise. He thought that beauty is a mixture of both; even if it is an evanescence, its aesthetic is so powerful that it will frame itself in your memory. Its beauty lies in its ephemerality.

He looked one last time at the flowers flying away, thinking once more of the smile that shines more brightly than the sun itself, graven in the depths of his mind.

_ I am a thousand winds that blow. _

  
  
  
  


There was something about blizzards that made him nostalgic. Maybe the fact that the last time he enjoyed them was when he was still a kid, without all the burdens he has accumulated over the years. He didn’t particularly love the cold months, but he didn’t hate them either. Lately it seems that every mundane thing could get into his nerves and submerge him in a howling abyss. Warmed up in the comfort of his apartment, he gave himself the time to appreciate through the window the slow fall of small snowflakes, thinking how much colder the last winters had been since he lost the warmest heart he ever knew.

_ I am the diamond glints on snow. _

  
  
  
  


It was hard for him to notice the pass of time if it wasn’t for the change of every season. He preferred it to be that way, honestly. For the same reason he stayed for so many years in ANBU, forgetting about everything; family, friends, sorrows and time. It wasn’t a better place for him, his mind too much filled with tortures, bloodbaths, and murders. He kept telling himself that it was better that way. Otherwise, he would keep looking at the horizon with a lost look as the time passes pitiless, hating every single second of being alive when he longed for death long ago, not doing it himself only for respect to his old teammate’s sacrifice. The darkness of his mind was reaching his abandoned heart, and the Sandaime was observant enough to notice it. So he spent his days in a work that didn’t fulfill him at all, leaving way too many openings for his agony to escape and reach the surface. After all those years of hating himself, his decisions and mistakes, he was getting kind of used to, until he got assigned a quirky new team. He really tried to get his emotions at bay, yet it was too difficult as he saw the blond boy announcing his dream of being recognized by the village, promising with a childish and confident grin he would someday become the Hokage. It was way too painful, almost unbearable.

After meeting his potential future students, he stayed in the rooftops admiring the sunset. He could purely wish that, someday in the future, the son of his deceased sensei could become Hokage and fulfill not only his promise, but the promise of the boy who once, long time ago, had the same dream, and apparently, the same will of fire.

_ I am the sunlight on ripened grain. _

  
  
  
  


Autumn rain soaked him and his loyal ninken, leaving him with a feeling of uncomfortness. Although the discomfort of his heart was way heavier than the unconscious boy he carried on his back, back to the village. He knew that the boy was going to be devastated once he woke up. He often blamed his old teacher for taking too long to arrive, being ironically the fastest man when he was still alive. If the yellow flash of the Leaf did arrive at time, maybe he wouldn’t be all alone with his grief. Now he blamed himself for arriving too late, for not being there when both his students needed him the most. He loathes himself for making the same mistake that took both his teammates' lives, and this time, almost took his student’s life too.

As he was getting closer to the village, he thought if this would have happened with his old teammate, who was a distant cousin of his missing student. Elders used to say that the hatred of their clan was a consequence of their intensity to love, and their willingness to destroy the entire world for the sake of the ones they love.

His innocent and incredulous mind thought that, at least, his old teammate didn’t live long enough to experience the merciless curse of hatred.

_ I am the gentle autumn rain. _

  
  
  
  


His pulse was racing along with his breathing. He felt the cold sweat permeate his skin and nightwear. It had been a few years since the last time he woke up because of a nightmare.

He blamed his too much free time, due to each of his three students training with a Legendary Sannin, leaving him as alone as he was used to before taking them under his care and teaching.

He lay on his bed trying to recompose his heartbeat, savouring the sour taste of his mouth, and the nauseating feeling of blood on his hand as he pierced his teammate’s chest. It had been more than a decade since that wretched event, but the ache of killing her would never leave him. This time, as a few other times he dreamed about that horrible night. He not only saw himself killing her, he saw the face of the remaining member of Team 7, too. He would rather die than see the actual face of the boy he loves watching him not only breaking the last promise he made to him, but killing the girl the other one loved.

The morning chirping of birds brought him out of his stupor, announcing the start of another day of pretending to be alive. While deep down in his numbness, feeling as dead as his entire old team.

_ When you awaken in the morning's hush _

_ I am the swift uplifting rush _

_ Of quiet birds in circled flight. _

  
  
  
  


That night was a particularly calm one, in between restless times. The cold winter wind blew making him shiver. He refused to believe everything that was happening. Whomever was behind that orange mask, asked for both eight and nine tailed beasts, and after the total refusal to surrender them, he declared the Fourth Great Shinobi War.

He couldn’t help but think about the last war, how he managed to live two wars in a lifetime, and how much he lost the last time. He feared that he would lose people in this war too, people who were too precious to him and, this time, he was aware of it. He didn’t need to lose them too to notice how much he loves them.

Because he was on guard that night, he stared at the night sky, at the same stars that someday back in time saw both him and his fallen best friend looking at them and wishing for better times to come. Thinking, not for the first nor the last time, in the boy who died as a hero in the last war. And dreaming of a peaceful life without war, dreaming of a life where they could be still together, where he could realise his feelings before it was too late and actually make something about it. A life where he could spend it along with the love of his life.

_ I am the soft stars that shine at night. _

  
  
  
  


It was, indeed, restless times. Such as any other war, in fact. Although this one compromises the integrity of the entire world, and all life on it.

He had been fighting for way too much time that he would like to -considering that he didn’t like the actual idea of fighting at all. The mental and chakra exhaustion leaving him at the edge of collapsing. He was more than grateful to his student for sharing his own chakra with him and all the Shinobi alliance, as he could plan a strategy so they could decipher the current world’s antagonist.

Their enemy was right in front of them, and both anxiety and curiosity to see who was behind that mask was eating him alive. Luckily for them, their interest in knowing the mind behind all that mess was shortly after sated. The very well thrown blow landed right on the mask they longed to break, showing them the face of the one who declared war to the entire world.

“You are…

_ Obito?” _

_ Do not stand at my grave and cry; _

_ I am not there. I did not die. _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you have enjoyed it!  
> I truly enjoyed writing it, I would say that it was my most fun writing evening in a long time. A few days ago I read "Do not stand at my grave and weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye, and immediately thought about doing something with Kakashi griefing for Obito, but Obito not actually dying at all. I must say that I feel really proud and satisfied with the result. It ended up being just how I wanted it! If anyone is wondering, the title is from Star Wars, it has nothing to do with the event of "Siege of Mandalore", I just wanted to use it as a title.
> 
> As I said in the notes at the beginning, English is not my first language, yet I wrote this work from scratch in English. I haven't made a translation in Spanish, but if anyone would like to read it, I'll gladly do it ^^ 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are really well appreciated. Please stay safe and take care 🧡


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